


at the touch of love you turned a scarlet hue

by cinderfell



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Perc'ahlia Vacation, post-feywild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vex's experiences in the Feywild leave her shaken, her troubled dreams leading her to Percy for a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the touch of love you turned a scarlet hue

**Author's Note:**

> for the perc'ahlia vacation ficswap, where everybody got three random prompts for locations besides percy's workshop! one of the prompts needtochangethisanyway gave me was for a watchtower!  
> the title is from the song "sad boy" by laila and i absolutely suggest listening to it because hoo boy is it percy and vex alright  
> thanks to bec (vaxgilmore/woahrebecca) for reading this over and making sure it wasn't a total mess

She found him alone, looking out at Whitestone through the scope of Bad News. 

“Percival,” she said, her voice much louder than she expected in the total silence of the watchtower. He jumped, hand tightening around the gun reflexively before relaxing as he recognized her voice. She raised her hands up apologetically as she approached him, watching the way his posture shifted at the sight of her. 

Percy was nearly prim and proper to a fault. There was just something about him—the way he stood compared to others, the way he could keep his face almost comically devoid of emotion, and the way that he spoke above all else—that betrayed his upbringing. Even when they found him in Stillben, dirty and sore from weeks upon weeks in that cramped, nearly lightless cell (Percy later admitted that he had no idea how long he actually had been in that prison, and she couldn’t say she blamed him) there was just something so… noble about him. She had known he wasn’t a simple commoner before he even gave them their first name drop. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Her voice lowered almost to a hiss as she stepped up next to him, moving into the soft stretch of moonlight that filtered in through the watchtower window. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“No, no, you’re fine.” He let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders disappearing as she stepped out of the shadows. “You just startled me a bit. This place isn’t used much, even by the guards, so sometimes I come up here by myself. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.” 

“Yes, well, if you heard me then I would be pretty lousy at my job, wouldn’t I?” 

He hummed in response. “I suppose that’s true.” 

“So, whatcha doing out here, Percy?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged, tugging at his coat. She always wondered how he kept it so nice. Percy took just as many hits as the rest of them, yet the blue jacket never stayed tattered for very long. She’d never seen him sewing or patching it up in any way, and for that matter would he have even learned how, growing up the way he did? Did he pick it up in the time after Whitestone fell but before they found him? Or perhaps he simply had a knack for fixing things. 

“When do you ever?” she shot back, leaning against the wall next to the window. 

“I sleep sometimes,” he replied, raising Bad News again to look out into the city below. 

“I know, and whenever you wake up from it you’re a grump.” 

He made a little _hmph_ sound at that but didn’t disagree. 

“So,” he said, lifting the gun and peering out into the gentle glow of Whitestone below. “What about you?” 

“Me?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“What are _you_ doing up?” 

She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

That… wasn't entirely true. Her problem was not a lack of sleep, but the problems that surfaced when she actually did drift off. Her eyes had closed and suddenly she was back inside the Feywild, inside that tree, looking up into the face of Saundor as he plucked out all her deepest fears and regrets like feathers. She felt… wrong ever since. Like he’d knocked her off-balance, just enough where she couldn’t properly function. She woke to all the fear and anxiety she buried sitting heavy in her stomach, a feeling as real as a blade to the stomach or an arrow to the back and about as painful. She hadn't initially set out to find Percy, just to walk until the feeling went away, but after a while she'd found herself first at the door of his bedroom and then the workshop. The way he'd treated her in the Feywild seemed to have left their mark, for better or for worse. 

If Percy sensed something was off about her answer he didn’t push. “There’s been a lot of that going around recently. It’s hard to sleep with everything that’s going on.” 

“So, why here, Percy?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Why here? Why come up to the watchtower in the dead of night and gaze out ominously into the town with your giant gun?” 

He lowered Bad News slowly, frowning down at it. “Is it really that ominous?” 

“Kind of, dear.” She smiled apologetically at him. “Then again, everything is a little ominous when you do it. It’s kind of your thing.” 

“Ah, well,” he started, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. To make sure that if something went wrong down below, I could potentially stop it.” 

“Percy, you realize that Whitestone is safe, yes? You can take a break for one night, Percy." 

“Whitestone was infiltrated by assassins and a vengeful demon only a short time ago, Vex,” he pointed out. Well, he had her there. Admittedly, Whitestone did have a history of putting them all in danger. It was definitely better than it used to be, but when he said it like _that_. “How’d you find me out here, anyways?” 

“I _am_ a ranger, darling. Tracking is what I do.” She watched as the corner of his mouth lifted at that, a sudden rush of warmth flooding her brain at the sight of even the slightest smile from him. 

“I assume that means you asked a guard what way I went?” 

“Listen, not everything has to be about literal tracks. Good communication can work just as well.” 

“Mhm,” he nodded before casting a sideways glance at her. “Speaking of communication, I don’t think I ever got to say how much I appreciated you trusting me with… all of that. Back in the Feywild, I mean.” 

Suddenly overcome with a wave of bashfulness, Vex looked down at her boots. “Yes, well, you were a good listener. And you did stay by my side. Much more than I expected you to, actually.” 

“You stood by my side when I needed someone.” Percy’s voice was quiet as he spoke, setting Bad News down and leaning it against the wall. “It’s only right that I repay the favor.” 

_Dark smoke billowing out from that wicked, beaked mask. Hand freezing cold as she holds onto it, begging and pleading with him to take the mask off, to stay with them. Her voice, hoarse and grating to her own ears, calling out his name and telling him to keep fighting._

She doubted she’d ever forget what the revolt was like, what it did to him. 

She shrugged it off, unwilling to let thoughts that dark bring down her mood. She sought him out specifically for the comfort his companionship often brought her, not to bring up those memories again. 

He turned to her then, meeting her gaze fully. “Really though, Vex. The Feywild was rough, especially on you. You handled it well.” 

“Percy, I was a mess.” 

“We’re all a mess from time to time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, really.” She watched his face closely, the way his brows pulled together as he seemed to think over the right words to say. “And with the weight that was put on you? First with Syldor and then with the archfey? You had every right to be a mess. And honestly, dear, you still did better than a lot of other people would’ve if put in your position.” 

She had grown up used to a certain level of thinly veiled mockery sewn into the fabric of every conversation she had. The sincerity in his voice, in his reassurances, were practically foreign. She wasn’t used to the way he dealt with her. She was used to her messier emotions being met with judgement and, shortly after too big of a meltdown, abandonment. 

But Percy stayed. 

Percy stayed and she didn’t know what to do about that. 

“Yes, well…” Her arms instinctively moved to hug herself, trying to calm the way her whole body practically buzzed at the slightest show of affection towards her. _How silly, Vex’ahlia,_ she chided herself. _What gives you the right to feel like this about him? What makes you think it would even be something he would entertain?_ “You definitely helped.” 

Percy didn’t say anything about the way her voice cracked when she spoke. His eyes were impossibly soft as he looked at her. “It was my pleasure.” 

They settled into a moment of quiet, as they sometimes tended to do. It wasn’t uncomfortable or overbearing in the way it was with many people. It folded over them like a blanket, delicate and soothing. There was no need to fill the silence when the silence itself was nearly as comforting as words. Below them, the city of Whitestone stretched out into the horizon as if it were the sky itself, the warm yellow lights from the houses below shining like stars across the black expanse of it. She would’ve been content to stand there for quite a while while they simply enjoyed each other’s quiet company and the view were it not for the suddenness of the winter wind rushing in through the window, blowing back her braid and making her eyes sting. Her enjoyment of his company (as much as it caused a confusing mix of emotions, she undeniably enjoyed it) could only do so much before the frigid air withered her down. 

“It’s cold up here,” she murmured, teeth chattering as she hugged herself tighter. 

For the first time, Percy seemed to realize that she was without a jacket or coat. Her shirt was thin, not meant for adventures at the tops of watchtowers in the winter. He glanced her up and down, frowning. “Vex’ahlia, why did you come up here without something on?” 

“Well, when I came out of my room to find you, I hardly thought you would be up at the top of some watchtower,” she grumbled, a twinge of annoyance in her voice. “I thought I was going to find you in your workshop, which would’ve been much more pleasant if I’m being honest.” 

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said, shaking his head. He looked her shivering form over (a moment too long, if she was being honest; she felt a gentle warmth rise to her cheeks) and after a moment of hesitation, he shrugged off his coat and held it out to her. She looked at him for a moment, then down at the blue fabric between them. 

Well, who was she to argue with that? 

She practically snatched the coat from him, her fingers brushing across his as she pulled it from his grasp. As she tugged the coat on, a burst of warmth unrelated to the actual fabric itself filling her chest. 

The bottom of the coat nearly brushed the floor, the coat itself much bulkier than she expected. She felt almost as if she were drowning in it, lost in the waves of blue. She raised her arms and snorted as she realized how heavy they were now, the coat obviously not meant for somebody as small and lithe as her. Percy was lanky, true, but he was also tall and filled out the coat better. Vex was adrift in it. The fabric of the sleeves, much too long for her arms, flopped uselessly as she continued to raise her arms to show Percy. “I think it may be a bit big on me.” 

His face was flushed—had it been like that when she first came up here?—and as he reached up to adjust his glasses she thought she caught a slight tremor in his hand. “It's rather cold up here. Perhaps we should go inside.” 

She looked up at the man before her, then back down at the coat she wore. “Darling, if we were going back inside right away, why give me your coat?” 

It was undeniable, looking at him then. His pale face grew redder at her question, eyes dropping from her body and down to the floor as he nervously pulled at the sleeves of his shirt. “I… I don’t—” 

Before he could stutter any more, she reached out and took his arm, laughter ringing out through the quiet night. Perhaps there was something more to his feelings for her after all. Perhaps her emotions wouldn’t fuck her over for once. “Well, regardless, I say we find somewhere warm. At this rate, we’ll both catch colds, coats or not.” 

After a moment of silence Percy seemed to recover, free hand coming up to rest against the one she held his arm with. Her hands were cold, his even more so. “The library has a fireplace, if that would suffice?” 

“Mmm, that sounds lovely, Percival.” 

He didn’t ask for the coat back. 

She didn’t mind.


End file.
